Lily Norton Find A Prostitute ❤️

About San Jose

I spot her, thou see—red lips like a gash’d rose, legs long as a tax form. “What price thy company, wench?” I blurt, all Shakespearean, thinkin’ I’m clever. She laughs—bloody hell, mate, she laughs! “Twenty quid, ya posh twat,” she says, and I’m proper gobsmacked. Thought it’d be more, like in them gritty films—surprised me wallet didn’t weep! “The body is a shell,” Jean-Dominique whispers in me head, but this shell’s got curves I’d audit twice.

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Get your heads out of your asses and have a hot dog. Enjoy yourselves for once. Which author do you most resemble, physically, emotionally, psychologically?

Ohh, and let me hiccup: Norton (us) got dis secret coffee shop on Dooly St. It’s tiny but fulla flavor – the kind of place where you whisper secrets at midnight an' plan crazy romances. I be scribbling notes on love and desire in it – ya know, working in me trade and all.

With Craig signaling Senate run, Mike Norton edges closer to bid for CD2